Can You See Me Now?
by NymphadoraKlutz
Summary: After the escape, TBag stays true to his promises. And Susan has no idea...


_"In case you're just tuning in, we are live at Fox River Penitentiary, where last night, seven inmates broke out, including death row inmate Lincoln Burrows, who was recently..."_

That's right, scream. Be afraid. Watch your back, because you're not safe anywhere. I know where you live. I know where you work. I know where your children go to school. I can see you right now, screaming at the television for more names.

_"Aiding Lincoln Burrows in his escape are six other inmates, one of which is Burrows' brother..."_

I can see you scream as my picture flashes across the screen. Oh, Susan, if you only knew I was watching. You'd toughen it up if you knew. But you'll never know where I am, until I want you to know.

_"...thick southern accent helps Bagwell stand out. If you think you know anything that could lead to the capture of any of these men, please contact the proper authorities."_

I love the way you look when you're scared. Scrambling towards the phone, just what I'd expect from you.

Police circling the house isn't really an issue. I can still imagine your fear, I can still dream about your corpse. It's beautiful. I can't wait until I get my hands around your neck, so that I can touch you. Feel you. Look at your pretty face as it gasps for air, and your hands as they struggle for freedom.

I follow you when you meet up with your shrink, twice a week. I'm flattered that you spend so much time thinking about me. It's actually quite amusing, you revealing your deepest fears and darkest dreams. I love waiting for you at your daughter's school. Gracie is a pretty little thing, I saw her during recess. I was up in a tree, the sweetheart didn't suspect a thing. Now I see your car pull up. See you at home, baby.

I follow you to the pawn shop, where I can see you buying a gun. And just when I thought this couldn't get any more fun. It delights me that you're so worried about me. While you place the gun on your bedside table, I start to think. What sounds more fun? Banging your head against the wall and relishing in the smell of your blood? Or should I scare you longer, maybe kill off a child or two?

I'm in your closet, Susan, thinking of all the wonderful things that I want to do to you. I won't describe in detail, that would be horrible, but don't worry, lovely. Every scenario ends with your broken body, your crying children, your gun lying useless on the floor, not one bullet fired. Now I see you from the crack under the closet door. Not too great of a view, but enough. I'm waiting until the light is off, and the movement has stopped. I open the dorr, slowly, as to avoid your attention.

Your daughter's bedroom is painted red. Thanks, sweetie, for saving me the trouble. I'm less cautious with her door, because I know you haven't told her what I am. The only person you've ever told if your shrink. Soon, I'll let all that bottles up emotion pour out, through your head, through your chest, and from wherever else I feel is necessary. At the sound of the creaking door, your little girl wakes. I see her eyelids flutter open, and she shoots up at the sight of my face.

"Teddy? Mommy said you moved back to Alabama."

"I came back to see your mom."

"Did you already see her? You should make it a surprise!"

"That's exactly what I was thinking, Gracie. Now, how about you hop back into bed, and I'll go see your mom."

I watch as your little girl slams her head back onto the pillow. When she sleeps, I feel happy, like when I used to spend time with you. I loved you Susan. Now all I love is the idea of you, hiding in the corner as I get closer. While I watch you cry, the gun being too far away to be of any use, I miss the game of hide and seek we used to play. You never were very good at it.

Now I'm close enough to feel your nails digging into my skin, my sweet. You can finally see me, but that's okay, because you're supposed to. I want you to see me, I want you to see the look on my face as I kill you.

Well Susan, now you're getting me mad. While your determination excites me, I am unable to find a weapon. The gun would be too quick, too easy. Boring, even. You're making me reach under the bed, you can see me now. I'm knocking you out with the first object I can find.

"Self-help books, baby? Sometimes, you're just too predictable..."

You can't see me anymore, honey, but it's probably better that way. I know you wouldn't want to see me covered in your crimson blood mixing with my own in the places where you scratched me. You can't see anything anymore, but I can see you. And I say, you've never been more appealing.


End file.
